Quarterback Teddy Bridgewater's small inner circle includes first and foremost his mother, Rose Murphy.

Photo: Brian T. Smith

Quarterback Teddy Bridgewater's small inner circle includes first...

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In picking an agent, Teddy Bridgewater, center, found someone levelheaded and low-key like himself in Kennard McGuire, right. And McGuire is sure to keep the QB's mother, Rose Murphy, left, in the loop.

It is the day after the pro day that could not go wrong went bad, and downtown has quieted down.

The sky remains dark, but snow has stopped falling in Louisville, Ky. Representatives for 29 NFL teams have dwindled to a few remaining bodies, while national television networks have moved on.

The lobby of a hotel where former Louisville quarterback Teddy Bridgewater, the potential No. 1 overall pick of the 2014 draft, just met Texans representatives is empty and stale, buzz-less compared to the tight energy that 24 hours earlier surrounded the prospect's final public evaluation.

Bridgewater walks through the front door. Low-key and almost invisible, wrapped up in a gray "Air Jordan 23" hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking more like a teenage basketball player than the possible answer to the Texans' 12-year quarterback problem.

No one stops him and no one stares. Bridgewater finds his mother, Rose Murphy, inside the first-floor restaurant and quietly sits beside two men, agent Kennard McGuire and Abram Elam, an adviser and family friend.

While draft analysts, talking heads and Twitter tear down the 6-2, 208-pound QB - owner of the second-most accurate arm in college football last season - Bridgewater receives a daily-life update, listens to his mother crack jokes and calmly sips coffee out of a paper cup.

Teddy Bridgewater's shaky pro day left the Louisville quarterback sliding down some mock-draft boards while remaining near the top of others. Bridgewater is widely regarded as the most NFL-ready QB available. But he also faces the most first-round uncertainty on draft day:

He's relaxed and peaceful. Because he has been through all this before on a deeper level and darker stage.

At 14, Bridgewater the high school freshman was forced to become the man of the house. He has overcome physical and emotional injuries, been dually doubted and praised, and was carrying the heavy, unrelenting weight of family - his mother fighting off breast cancer, his father barely being around - when Texas A&M's Johnny Manziel and Central Florida's Blake Bortles were being primed for the pipeline.

"Everything I've been through, it helped me mature," Bridgewater said. "I matured at a young age."

Like the draft experts, the quarterback has no idea which team will call his name May 8 in New York. Unlike the experts, Bridgewater knows he'll reach the destination his way, on his own terms. And once the mock drafts disappear and the real game begins, Bridgewater will be playing pro football, while the outsiders move on to next year and a new list of names.

"What's important is what you do out there. What your teammates see you doing that goes unnoticed by the fans. … That's something that I understand," Bridgewater said. "I'd rather be a guy that flies under the radar and that's a grinder, that no one's talking about. But when it's time to step out on that field, I'm the guy they're talking about."

Willing to sacrifice

Murphy raised her son on humility.

The family knew Bridgewater possessed God-given talent. But he had two older sisters, an older brother and a father who was rarely around after the parents divorced. While his mother worked as a field specialist for the Miami-Dade County school system, Bridgewater would have to partly raise himself. There wasn't time for trouble, and there was no use for a growing ego.

"He's always been like that, even from a kid," said Murphy, who's entering her 26th year working for the transportation department. "I always told him, 'You have to be humble. Be humble in everything you do.' Because humbleness, humility will take you a long way."

A life battle

Bridgewater's sense of self was challenged when he was a freshman at Miami Northwestern. By his sophomore year, he'd taken over as the school's quarterback. But before Bridgewater could reach the beginning of his NFL path, his humility and the family's bond were tested.

A mammogram revealed Murphy had stage two breast cancer. Bridgewater was the lone child and male left in the house.

While his mother readied for a life battle - radiation, chemotherapy, a lumpectomy - the soon-to-be 10th-grader did the unthinkable. He volunteered to quit football, drop out of school and immediately become a young man who would take care of his mother, put food on their table and a little money in their pockets.

Bridgewater even came up with a plan. He'd be a do-it-all kid, mowing lawns, washing cars and scraping up any extra change he could find as Murphy overcame cancer.

"I wanted to give up everything just to protect her," Bridgewater said. "I was ready to make that sacrifice … just to be there for her."

Murphy listened but wouldn't give in. Her son already was making his name ring out with a football in his hand. God would take care of her, Murphy said. Bridgewater had to take care of himself.

"He just said, 'OK, Mom,' and it was a green light from then," Murphy said. "I mean, we still had our moments and our struggles, because the sickness was worse than - ugh. So we just prayed together and laughed together and we cried together. We did whatever we had to do to get through. And he had to continue to play football."

A long way from home

Miami Northwestern was supposed to become the University of Miami. Instead, Bridgewater ended up more than 1,000 miles to the north, living his college years in the foreign Mideast and playing for a rebuilding program that eventually would make rising stars out of its coach, Charlie Strong, and young quarterback.

Murphy said the full Bridgewater to Louisville story hasn't been told. LSU and Florida, among others, showed real interest. Bridgewater chose the Cardinals because he could be himself while becoming part of a program, opting for teamwork and assimilation instead of individualism and personal character.

"I don't think it's so much the place as it's you," Murphy said. "How do you fit in and how do you transact?"

Louisville allowed Bridgewater to grow, but the program's low profile also kept him humble. He carried that humility into his new, soon-to-be professional world. Power agents and promises of millions were offered when Bridgewater declared for the pros. He responded by aligning himself with Elam, a former NFL safety who's friends with Bridgewater's brother, and McGuire, who represents Texans wide receiver Andre Johnson but acknowledges he's in the latter stage of agent life.

"I've always been this way. Never had any entourage," said Bridgewater, who completed 71 percent of his passes for 3,970 yards, 31 touchdowns and just four interceptions during his junior year at Louisville. "I always try to associate myself with people that have my best interest. That's part of the reason I hired the agent I hired in Kennard, because his personality matches my personality."

Close-knit circle

A mature, grounded young man - whose frame, hands and school have been critiqued for three years - then describes McGuire. In doing so, Bridgewater paints himself.

A workaholic who's also laid-back. Level-headed, with no flash and no need for public attention. Someone who just gets the job done at the end of the day.

"We like to stay out of the limelight, basically, and just fly under the radar," said Bridgewater, speaking another language than his QB counterpart from College Station.

McGuire and Elam guide Bridgewater. But Murphy stays close, appraised of the daily storm swirling around her son.

"They keep me informed of everything, every meeting they have," Murphy said. "They want me to know about it. They don't just want me to be a mom."

But it's mainly the same duo it always has been: Bridgewater and his mother. She kept him on the football field when he wanted to leave it behind. She watched over him in Louisville. Now, with analysts alternately praising and ripping and the allure of the NFL waiting, it's a son and his mother staring at 46 more days and the biggest announcement of their lives.

"I've been guiding him and helping him, so we don't need no extra help that hasn't been there," Murphy said. "We don't need nobody jumping in the bandwagon."

'Servant leader'

Bridgewater wouldn't allow the intrusion if anyone tried. He can live without the noise. But he has loved the inside view of the process. Private meetings, coaches, executives and chalkboards. Teams that just want to hit play and roll tape. Other organizations that ask one intricate football question, dive into his personal background, then ask for the football answer just when he feels like the interview is done.

"He's met with every team that (needs) a quarterback," McGuire said. "He's had breakfast, lunch and dinner with them."

Gloves, no gloves. Too skinny or just right. Accurate, complex and tested. Bridgewater is who he is and who he always has been. One team is going to base the future of its franchise around him. He has been waiting for the call since he was 14. He won't even blink when the welcoming voice comes through the line.

"I want to just be a servant leader - someone that is able to make everyone else around them better and elevate their games," Bridgewater said. "And I'm looking for nothing in return. Just trying to make myself better in the process."